Fortune's Misfortune
by iloveit
Summary: AKA Dario Would Never Do Anything This Stupid. Vague fortunetelling and well meant encouragement send Karsh on a bizarre quest to capture Riddel’s affections once and for all.
1. If That Wasn't Total BS

A/N: Just so it's completely clear, this story takes place during the game, at a point _after_ Serge gets his own body back but _before_ Dario is found to be alive in the Home World. I dedicate it to anyone who's ever taken Karsh to the fortuneteller in Termina and wondered what the heck she was talking about.

* * *

Chapter 1: If That Wasn't Total BS…

It was a sunny Termina afternoon. The merchants were out in full force, trying to drum up business from locals and tourists alike. Kids were playing in the streets, too wrapped up in their games to move aside for the hurried townspeople. And one blue-haired boy, as far as Karsh was concerned, was wasting a hell of a lot of time.

Serge had summoned him and Orlha to go and slay a tough monster up at Earth Dragon Isle. But first, for some completely unknown reason, he was taking them to the fortuneteller's booth. Karsh tapped his foot loudly and impatiently as he waited in the line behind him. What was the point of this?

"Damn it, junior, what are we doing here?" he grumbled. "Weren't you gonna take us to fight that Criosphinx thing?"

What Serge didn't seem to get was, he was a top dragoon with a lot to do. Yeah, he'd offered to lend his skills when needed, but that didn't mean he appreciated being dragged around on trivial little errands that weren't going to accomplish anything.

"…"

Serge merely glanced at Karsh before turning right back around without a word. This kid was getting on his last nerve with his pointless excursions. Word on the street was that Lord Viper had been called on the other day to assist the party, and all they'd done was retrieve part of a skeleton. All-important savior of the world or not, somebody had to put Serge in his place. You just didn't drag the freaking ruler of El Nido away from his work to pick up a lousy pelvic bone.

"I said, what are we…"

Serge walked up to the fortuneteller, ignoring the question. Needless to say, Karsh wasn't exactly pleased.

Orlha laughed at the scene. "You know he doesn't talk much."

Karsh grinned as he thought about just how great it would be to give junior a piece of his mind right now. The kid wouldn't say anything back. His smile then faded as he realized he was at the front of the line. He wasn't about to put up with this nonsense.

"_We_ don't have to do this, do we?" He stepped aside. After all, why would Serge care what the fortuneteller had to say to them?

"Aw, just go along with it," Orlha nudged him, urging him back towards the booth. "Who knows, it might be fun."

"Or not."

No way was he giving in to her prodding. When Karsh had last visited that fortuneteller several years ago, she'd warned him of a dangerous trip into the outdoors. Looking back, she'd probably been talking about that hellish mission to the Isle of the Damned, but she sure hadn't bothered to say so. He'd quit following the advice when one day, remembering the old woman's words, he'd decided to forget practicing his axe-wielding in the forest outside the manor and stick to the dragoon quarters instead. It had been just one wayward strike, and… well, he didn't like to talk about it. Zoah'd had to wear a mask on his face ever since.

"Your turn. Get in there!"

He was wondering what had made Zoah pick one that looked like a deformed kettle when Orlha caught him off guard. With one shove of a deceptively ladylike hand, she thrust him right in front of the fortuneteller.

He wasn't used to girls being so physical with him. Of course, it didn't help that he spent so much time around Lady Riddel, who was polite and refined as they came. She wouldn't lay a hand on him.

It was too bad.

And there he went again. Even when she wasn't around, even when he had all the trouble in the world to worry about, even when he forced his mind onto other stuff, it all seemed to come back to _her_.

Riddel. He'd been her friend a long time, and loved her for longer. And after all these years, nothing had ever come of it.

Sure, he'd never really gone after her in the first place, but it was probably better that he didn't. He was damn near certain that she saw him as a friend and nothing more. There was no point in saying anything if he'd just get shut down and possibly even ruin what he did have in the process. And so he hadn't told Riddel how he felt. Maybe he never would.

"Do you want your fortune told, young man, or have you come to stand here and hold up my line?" Karsh was suddenly aware of the wrinkled woman's eerie stare fixed upon him. It was like she was looking straight into his soul, and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

"Fine! What is it?" He made sure his annoyed tone clearly told her that he didn't care less. In return, he got her famous cryptic expression and a fortune that was vague as hell.

"A change in fashion will blossom a new love."

"What the…" he muttered, stepping back to get the heck out of there. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

Orlha got her reading next, and rejoined the party with a huge smile on her face. Hers had apparently been either overwhelmingly positive or flat out hilarious.

"Ridiculous, right?" Karsh turned to her. "If that wasn't total BS, I don't know what is."

"No, I think the woman really knew her stuff. I mean, how could she have guessed that I have a 'missing counterpart'?" she gushed, ecstatic at the fortuneteller's prediction of a reunion with her long-lost twin. "And you never know," she gave Karsh a meaningful look, "maybe a little change of fashion would get Lady Riddel to see you as more than a friend for once."

She _knew_?

"The hell are you talking about? When did I say I wanted that?" Karsh was so taken aback, he didn't realize soon enough that such an impassioned response would betray his feelings more than hide them. How could she know how he felt about Riddel?

"You don't have to. I just know." Orlha laughed at his all-too-predictable reaction, which told her she'd been absolutely right about his weakness for the noble lady. "I'm a bartender, Karsh. I get customers with problems like this every day."

Well… ah, you're wrong," Karsh stammered out. "I mean, sure I care about her, but not like that!"

Judging by Orlha's expression, he'd hadn't been the least bit convincing. Now what?

"…"

Serge regarded the two warriors with impatience, pointing at a rowboat waiting in the distance.

"I think that means we leave now," Orlha guessed.

Karsh had never been so glad to be wordlessly interrupted by their silent leader.

The rest of the journey was unusually quiet. Karsh was lost in thought, Orlha knew better than to piss him off any further, and Serge was, well, Serge.

As Karsh did his part to take down the monsters crawling all over Earth Dragon Isle, he kept getting distracted by the same darned thing. Was he that obvious?

What Orlha had said had come as a bit of a shock. He couldn't remember anything he'd said or done that would've given him away. Yeah, he was a bit protective of Riddel at times. But that was technically part of his duties as a dragoon, and everyone knew he took his job seriously. So how could he be so transparent?

And, more importantly, could Riddel have figured him out, too?

Nah, he reassured himself, she was probably still in the dark. She still treated him same as always, and with her sincere personality, she wouldn't be able to hide the fact that she knew for a second.

Most people probably didn't pick up this kind of thing as quickly as Orlha did, Karsh told himself, trying to stop his worrying and concentrate on the task at hand. Like she said, she was a bartender. Dealing with other people's troubles was practically her job.

He had to wonder how she'd deal with that fortune, if she were in his shoes. It was hard to believe that a different set of clothes would be enough to make Riddel fall for him. Heck, the lady might not have even been talking about Riddel in the first place. She'd just said "a new love." But then, who else could it be? There weren't many other girls he saw often enough for something like that to happen.

While Karsh was busy contemplating all of this, Orlha barely managed to stop an unnoticed Rockroach from tearing his leg off.

"Thinking about her?" she winked. He couldn't get anything past this chick.

"About who?" he almost tried, but he doubted she'd buy that kind of crap after the way she'd read his mind so far. Instead, he shot her a glare, which didn't help much.

She finished off the creature with a flurry of punches. "You could be a little less rude to me, considering I just saved your ass."

Even Serge laughed at that. It was the closest Karsh had ever seen the kid get to talking, and he had to look twice to make sure he wasn't imagining things. "Just tell me this, then," he began, all the while having to remind himself that it wouldn't kill him just to suck it up and ask. "How did you _know_?"

"Because you fall all over yourself trying to hide it."

After the way he'd acted back in Termina, he couldn't argue with that logic.

It was weird to finally be _not _hiding his feelings for Riddel after keeping it all to himself for so long. And as crazy as it sounded, it somehow felt… good. Kind of like a weight off his shoulders, for lack of a less clichéd way to put it.

Well, as long as was letting go of his pride, he might as well go all the way. Yeah, he was going to ask Miss Bartender here for advice. What else did he have to lose at this point?

He knew it was just a fortune, there was no disputing that. But if the old lady turned out to be right—and he _had_ heard a few stories where she'd predicted the future pretty darn well—he'd have everything he ever wanted. Was there really any harm in trying a new outfit or two?

"So you think I should give this 'change in fashion' thing a shot?" Karsh focused his attention on a monster creeping nearby, knowing how lame he must have sounded.

Orlha took note of Karsh's apparent embarrassment, but decided not to give him a hard time about it. She'd hassled him enough for one day.

"It couldn't hurt, could it?"


	2. Huge Secret Crush

Chapter 2: Huge Secret Crush

This was, like, so boring.

There was nothing to do when she was stuck on the S.S. Invincible. She hated it. She abhorred it. But right now, she couldn't do a thing about it. So Marcy was just wandering the halls, thinking about whatever.

There was Karsh outside Riddel's room again. He stood guard there, like, all the time when they were on the ship, because it was one of his dragoon duties to ensure the safety of the Manor nobility. Or that's what he said, anyway. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he just liked to be around her.

He'd stand there, like, all day long, hoping to talk to Riddel. And eventually, she'd go in or out, and she'd be like, "Hello, Karsh." And he'd be like, "Hi, Riddel." And they'd say some more pointless stuff about politics and weather and how their days were going, and that'd be it. Sometimes, Karsh would get brave and give her a tiny compliment for a change, but usually, he'd wimp out. And then he'd, like, stand around some more. How totally lame was that?

Marcy knew exactly why Karsh was acting so weird. He liked Riddel. No, he _like_ liked her. He had a huge secret crush on her! You figured these kinds of things out when you had nothing to do but spy on everybody else.

It was like, so pathetic, when she thought about it. Hadn't they been friends for a majorly long time? So what the heck was Karsh so nervous around Riddel for? She was just a girl. (Okay, a pretty one, and a really important and famous one, too. But you get the point already.) It wasn't even like Riddel could punch his face in like she probably could if he ever made her mad enough.

Well, as long as he didn't have that axe of his lying around, but that was, like, just a minor detail.

If you asked her, Karsh needed to just suck it up and say something. Whatever happened, it wasn't like he was going to, like, die or anything if it all went wrong. And it was a way better idea than standing around in the hall like some kind of loser.

Like, obviously.

…Whatever. She was getting bored. Time to go bug Karsh instead of thinking of ways to solve his stupid problems. If he wasn't such a big moron half the time, he'd do that on his own.

"And just what do you think you're doing near Lady Riddel's quarters?" he yelled, probably the very second he heard her footsteps.

"Chill out, Karsh, it's just me!" Marcy said, turning the corner. He was always so freaked out that one of those creepy pirate guys would try to get near his crush. "Are you, like, still here?"

Well, duh. But she couldn't resist reminding him that he practically _lived_ in that hallway these days.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want Lady Riddel to have to deal with any of the pirates around this place."

Lame excuse. "If she didn't wanna see 'em, wouldn't she just, like, lock her door or something?"

"They're pirates, Marcy. They've gotta know how to pick locks. Besides, it's my duty—_our_ duty as dragoons to—"

"Ensure the safety of the Manor nobility. I know." Was he seriously going on about this _again_? "You say so, like, all the time. But I totally don't see you hanging around the General's room twelve hours a day. You sure you don't just have, like, a thing for Riddel? Hm?"

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Ooh. Now he was mad. "Go obsess over clothes or boys or something."

"Like, are you blind? My clothes are perfect already. I don't need to obsess over them. And the boys on this boat are like, ew." So there.

He was definitely thinking of crazy ways to get to Riddel to like him back, because he asked, like, the weirdest question…

"Hey, uh, about clothes… you think I should get new ones?"

"Um, what?"

Karsh caring about clothes and stuff… how random was _that_?

"Well?"

Marcy wanted to die laughing, but she wouldn't give in yet. It'd be so much funnier in the end if she could pull all of this off with a straight face.

"So, like, why?" Like she didn't already know.

"No reason." Karsh was so obviously trying to sound like he didn't care. Too bad he sucked at it.

It _so_ figured. He wasn't going to tell her anything at all, because everybody obviously knew already, and he couldn't make a bigger idiot of himself if he was, like, actually trying.

"Hmmm," she pretended to think like she was actually serious. Then she answered in the most innocent voice she knew how to put on. "Like, I don't know, Karsh. Aren't flares supposed to be making a comeback?"

One look at Karsh's face told her he was totally pissed at the use of the girly fashion term. She held back a giggle. As if his stupid pants were anything else. Who was he trying to kid?

Well, at least he dressed better than her brother.

"And just so you know, because I know this doesn't have, like, anything to do with anyone," Marcy teased some more, obviously being way sarcastic, "I heard Riddel likes guys who dress kinda traditionally."

And with that, she ran off to hang out near Lord Viper and be a major goody-goody, because she knew Karsh couldn't do anything around him.

He was like, _so_ going to kill her.


	3. Practically in Drag

Chapter 3: Practically in Drag

So he was ready for some new clothes… but now what?

That was the main thought on Karsh's mind as he wandered aimlessly around the more shopping-oriented part of Termina. He felt lost next to all the obvious fashion addicts, who hurried straight to their favorite stores like they were on some kind of mission. He honestly didn't know where to start with this new look business. Sure, he'd lived in this town all his life, but he hadn't exactly spent his childhood checking out clothes. Had there always been this many shops?

How did anyone find what they wanted in this damn maze?

Maybe he'd just try that place in the corner. With all the people hanging around it, there had to be _something_ good in there, and he was tired of walking around in circles and having other shoppers stare at him like he was some kind of dumbass.

He pushed his way through the crowd, and the second he passed the door, he knew he'd come to the wrong place. It was a little specialty shop full of wild outfits—costumes, almost. Stuff you only saw on performers, prostitutes, and the occasional attention-seeking bargoer.

The mannequins sure weren't wearing much, he couldn't help but notice. A feathered pink bikini, a red fishnet… thing, a short black leather dress. Without even thinking, he pictured Riddel in the black one. It was naughty, revealing, and downright wrong—definitely not something she'd ever consider wearing. It'd make her gasp, blush furiously, maybe even faint if anyone ever suggested she put _that _thing on. He thought of this as he forced the picture out of his mind, though a part of him still argued that she'd look damn good as a dominatrix.

Trying to rid himself of the obviously inappropriate idea, Karsh looked over in the direction that everyone seemed to be pointing. So _that_ was why so many people were there. They were all trying not to look like huge stalkers as they watched this girl, probably some celebrity, buy a pair of ridiculously high-heeled red shoes. She seemed not to notice all the attention, probably having gotten used to it by now.

She turned from the counter and waved at… him?

"Hey, I know you!" she called, sauntering over like the celebrated superstar he figured she had to be. She wore a ton of makeup. Stage makeup, he bet. You sure didn't see everyday girls going around like that.

"Well, I'm pretty well-known around here," he told her, not trying to be arrogant. His position in the dragoons made him a familiar face to just about everybody. "I'm Karsh, from the Devas."

"Well, I knew _that_! I mean, I've met you! Through Serge, remember?"

Uh, not exactly.

He didn't even try to remember everyone he'd met through junior. So many people had joined the kid's cause, he probably had enough followers to populate a small village by now. No wonder Serge wasn't much of a talker. It saved him from having to remember all those names.

"I guess you do look familiar," Karsh conceded, even if it was only vaguely. "Sorry, what's your name again?"

The girl looked a bit shocked. "I'm Miki, from the Magical Dreamers!"

Oh, that band in town. All Karsh knew about them was that they were so famous it was starting to get annoying, and the huge crowds of their fans who'd come for the Viper Festival were a major pain in the ass. They clogged up the streets and practically rendered him deaf with their piercing cries of "Nikkiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" whenever that guy in the heels showed up.

After a long pause, Miki finally spoke, having looked like she'd been debating over whether or not to say something. "I don't mean to be a diva or anything, but, _wow_. I don't meet a lot of people who don't know who I am these days."

"Do I _look_ like a pop music fan to you?"

She laughed. "I guess not. So what are you doing _here_, anyway?"

Obviously, Acacia dragoons weren't known to hang around the hot store of the moment shopping for studded belts all day.

"Here?" Karsh didn't exactly want to admit to anyone that he was looking for a change in fashion. He'd been hoping to buy something fast and get the hell out of there. But what else could he say now? That he was lost?

"I wanted a new look, I guess."

"You? A dragoon?" He expected a laugh, but oddly enough, Miki let out a sigh instead. "Everybody's becoming so superficial these days."

Working in entertainment, she knew this all too well. She and Nikki tried to convey important messages with their music, but most of their fans only liked them for the visuals. It was kind of sad, when she thought about it.

Karsh was a bit stunned. Superficial was not something he'd ever expected to be called, especially not by someone dressed like _that_. "Believe me, I ain't doing this out of vanity. And hey, you're the one buying the ridiculous shoes here."

"They're to enhance the overall impact of our performance," she explained, giving him a "duh" look. "And you're… what, planning to intimidate opponents with your sense of style?"

Karsh chuckled. "Nah, it's… well, it's kind of for someone else more than anything."

She got a curious gleam in her extremely made-up eyes. "Oooooh. So who's the lucky girl you're after?"

"Who said I was after a girl?" He'd rather not tell the whole world that he was making himself over to get Riddel to notice him, just because the old lady fortuneteller had hinted that it might work. It didn't exactly sound like the most rational thing in the world.

"…You aren't?" After a moment of confusion, Miki finally realized what he might mean. She mentally berated herself for thinking he was necessarily into girls in this day and age. Way to be so thirty years ago. "Hey, I'm really sorry I assumed. You just didn't seem like you were… you know…"

"I'm not!" Karsh shook his head like mad. He sure as hell wasn't gay. "Okay, fine, it's for a girl! But don't ask who. Forget it." Orlha and Marcy knowing about this was bad enough.

"A dragoon Deva like you needs help picking up girls. Imagine that." Miki put a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle that Karsh was sure she could have stopped in their first place, if she'd really wanted to. At this rate, he was going to be blatantly mocked by everyone he'd ever met before he found a new look.

"Quit it, will ya? If I wanted just _any_ girl, it'd be no problem."

Miki looked skeptical. "So you think some new clothes are going to make some unattainable dream girl finally fall for you?"

"If the fortuneteller's right, then, yeah, I guess so." When she put it that way, it sounded kind of stupid. He waited for Miki to fall to the floor laughing or something like that, but it didn't happen.

"You mean the one here?" Karsh nodded. "Oh my god, I went to her too! She told me I'd broaden my horizons, and I ended up going all the way to Marbule!" she gushed. "I believe it." So apparently Miki didn't think his idea was so ridiculous. Thank the gods. Being teased relentlessly was starting to get a little tiring. "So what kind of a look did you have in mind?"

"I don't know, you think I know about clothes?" Just walking around the area had made him realize how seriously people took this fashion business. "Well, definitely something more traditional than the stuff in this place," he said, remembering what Marcy had told him about Riddel liking that kind of thing.

Miki stared at the obviously clueless Deva. "Now I _know_ you're not superficial. The traditional look has been over for years."

"I'm sorry I don't keep up with the latest styles between missions," Karsh retorted sarcastically. He hadn't come for a lecture.

"I'll tell you what. You're a friend of a friend, why don't I help you out a bit? You definitely sound like you could use it."

"Sure, might as well." Though he was iffy about taking advice from a member of a band known for their crazy outlandish costumes, something told him he wasn't going to get very far here on his own.

His unenthusiastic consent was somehow enough to get him dragged all the way to the Magical Dreamers' ship by a very excited Miki. Karsh was starting to second-guess his decision to let her get involved. Girls got way too excited over all this clothing junk.

"I'm gonna give you some of Nikki's new costumes. Never been worn!"

"You sure about this?" This didn't sound too good. He'd seen posters of that guy, and Karsh wouldn't be caught dead in _those_ kind of clothes. Hopefully, he had some more… normal ones around.

"Oh, it'll be fine. He's got a ton of them, and he's totally preoccupied lately." Miki sighed. "He's had some family stuff to deal with and… well, never mind, it's not your business.

Considering he was currently stationed with Nikki's long-lost sister on Nikki's father's pirate ship, he probably knew a heck of a lot more than she thought.

"Anyway, I promise you, he'll never notice." She opened a trunk. It was full of… oh god. Leather and suspenders and makeup. What the hell?

"I thought I told you I wasn't gay!"

"Okay, okay, I realize Nikki's costumes are a bit… flamboyant," she conceded. "But he's the most popular heartthrob in the world right now. If anyone knows how to get girls, it's him. He must be doing something right."

Girls went for _that_? "You gotta be kidding me! There's no frickin' way I'm gonna dress practically in drag!"

"Do you want the girl or not?"

Well, Nikki did have a constant trail of female fans begging for his attention, she wasn't lying about that. If he could get Riddel to like him even _half_ that much…

"You better be sure about this."

"Thousands of screaming fangirls can't be wrong."


	4. With All Due Respect

Chapter 4: With All Due Respect

It was the perfect opportunity. Riddel had gotten off the S.S. Invincible for the day to go into the city, and Karsh was all dressed up and ready to make his move.

Only, as he walked the streets of Termina in his… well, Nikki's new clothes, he didn't exactly feel ready. And who could blame him? Karsh couldn't think of any normal person who wouldn't feel at least a little bit uncomfortable with a leather choker and a feather boa on. But that wasn't it. It wasn't just nerves. It wasn't even the idea of walking around town dressed like a borderline transvestite.

It was just… it still felt kind of wrong to be acting on his feelings like this. Even though Dario was, well… not around anymore, it was almost like making a move on his best friend's girl.

_Come on_, he tried to assure himself. Dario wouldn't have wanted Riddel to be alone all her life.

_And I bet he wouldn't want you to be alone, either. _

Finally, he spotted her by the flower stand. Of course. She went there a lot. Short of going all the way to Fossil Valley to pick them by hand, it was the only way to get the bellflowers she loved so much. They sold them year-round.

Or, they used to, anyway.

"I'm sorry, but we still don't have any bellflowers," the vendor apologized to a very disappointed Riddel. Karsh got the impression that she'd had to do this once or twice before.

Riddel wanted to object, and certainly would have if she hadn't found it impolite to do so. Why, this was the fifth time this month that she or Glenn had attempted to purchase bellflowers and been denied.

"Are you certain? You do not have even one?"

"Not even one, Lady Riddel. Bellflowers are scarce down in the valley these days," the woman explained.

"How sad. I do wonder why." Of all the flowers in El Nido, why was it that the one dearest to her had to be so difficult to locate?

I don't know, Lady Riddel, she wanted to say. Could it be because you thoughtlessly toss them onto Sir Dario's grave faster than we can grow them?

Knowing she could never speak to a noblewoman like that, the vendor gave her a vastly toned-down response. "It's likely they've been overpicked. There's been a great demand for them in recent years. In particular, there are, um, certain customers of ours who buy them almost every day."

"And who might they be?"

Perhaps, Riddel thought, such connoisseurs might happen to have a spare bellflower or two on hand that they would allow her to purchase.

"You, of course, for one. And," she thought for a moment, trying in vain to come up with someone else who bought as many bellflowers as Lady Riddel. "…Well, your maids. And Sir Glenn, when he comes to buy them for you."

Riddel gasped, realizing all of them came to buy flowers on her behalf. Could it be that she had led the bellflower to endangerment herself?

"I'm terribly sorry. I must take responsibility for this." Her face took on an incredibly sad expression, and the vendor immediately felt some guilt at having thought of her so harshly. "I only purchase so many so that I may place them by my dear Dario's grave. He loved bellflowers so."

"With all due respect, Lady Riddel," the vendor was more polite than ever now, fearing what she might get for questioning the Lady's practices, "have you ever considered planting some flowers by his grave rather than buying them every day?"

Riddel was stunned, this apparently never having occurred to her before.

"It'd keep them from going extinct, in any case," she added, trying to justify her comment lest Lady Riddel find it out of line.

"Why, what a marvelous idea! Then they may bloom perpetually for Dario. I cannot thank you enough for this suggestion. I shall send someone to plant some right away. Good day to you." She planned to locate the Manor's gardener and put him to this task immediately.

"Good luck finding any seeds now," the vendor muttered as she retreated. "Rich folk…. just senseless when it comes to the environment."

"I beg your pardon?" Riddel turned around.

"I said nothing, Lady Riddel. I was merely humming to myself."

Somehow, Riddel had heard something rather different, but she was far too excited about her new idea to pay any heed to that now.

As she headed in the direction of the manor, she realized she was being followed by a strange man in a shocking costume.

It was all rather frightening, and she sought to avoid him if possible, so she opted to take one of the lesser-used streets in town. The sound of footsteps did not cease, however, and she turned to see the same man even closer behind her. He caught her gaze with a heavily made-up pair of eyes

"Guards!" she called as loudly as she could, seeking their protection in case it happened that this man was dangerous. It seemed highly ironic that Karsh had left her side only now, at a time when she truly required his aid.

Oddly, her call incited the man to hurry toward her rather than flee. His movements were almost comical. Perhaps he was not accustomed to running in the heeled boots he wore.

"What is it, Lady Riddel? There ain't no one else here." The voice was instantly identifiable.

"Karsh!" Her shock gave way to a ladylike laugh as she realized that the man was not in fact a suspicious stranger after all. "I'm afraid it was you that provoked my call for help. I am embarrassed to say that I didn't recognize you in that rather… unique costume of yours," she said, choosing her words carefully to avoid offending him. "I assumed you were a troublemaker of some sort."

So far, this wasn't working the way Miki had promised, not at all. Riddel was definitely not throwing herself at his feet. Not that he'd expected such a perfect lady to give in to instincts like that so easily, but she didn't even seem interested!

Maybe she just needed a prompt. "So, uh, what do you think? Of the clothes, I mean."

"If you're going undercover for a mission of some kind, I think it's simply brilliant. Why, I never would have thought it was you in that ridiculous outfit until you began to speak. In fact, you look like…" she stopped, realizing this was something she ought not to say.

"Like what?"

An uncharacteristic giggle escaped her lips. "Well, pardon my saying, but rather like a crossdresser."

He got the point. The clothes were a bust. "Yeah, well… like you said, it's for an undercover mission…" he mumbled, humiliated. "I've got to get going on it. Later." And he ran off towards his house to get changed before anyone else saw him.

Meanwhile, Nikki looked on from the roof of the inn. He'd frantically climbed up there to escape a herd of stampeding fangirls, and judging by the lack of girlish screams in the air, it seemed to have actually worked.

He wondered if maybe he ought to start worrying about the male fans as well. That one guy down there had copied his new costume, zipper for zipper, before he'd even worn it! He didn't know how anyone had even managed to see it, but he knew better than to try and figure out their fanatical ways.

They just got crazier and crazier every day.

* * *

A/N: It's not over yet. Not even close.


	5. Dressing to Impress

Chapter 5: Dressing to Impress

"Bonjour!"

Karsh groaned as the door to his bedroom swung open. Pierre was back. Just when he'd thought his day couldn't get any worse.

Well, at least he'd managed to finish changing out of his so-called rock star getup first. He could be glad about that much.

Pierre got on his nerves like no one else. The guy had come to Termina because they only had three Devas at the moment, and a "hero" like him would make a perfect fourth. The whole idea was so ludicrous it wasn't even funny, and it made Karsh's blood boil just to think about it. No one would ever be able to replace Dario. Especially not some big-talking wannabe who couldn't fight to save his life.

If you asked him, Pierre would've been better off going right back to wherever he came from and saving his rent money. The dragoons sure weren't going to start recruiting delusional narcissistic posers anytime soon. And why this fruitcake still hadn't managed to figure that out, he had no clue.

Every time Karsh came home, he hoped against hope that Pierre would finally be gone for good. But then he'd find his room full of stuff that wasn't his—_weird_ stuff, like feathered hats—and he'd feel like driving his axe through the wall. Not that he could blame his parents for renting his room out, since he lived at Viper Manor most of the time anyway, but he wished they'd be just a little more selective when it came to picking tenants. It was downright embarrassing that this idiot, who'd been the laughing stock of the dragoons ever since he offered to "do them a favor" and join, was living in _his_ house.

Not only that, but last he'd heard, Pierre still hadn't paid his parents last month's rent. As far as Karsh was concerned, the guy was lucky he hadn't been kicked out. So he felt perfectly justified in coming and going whenever he felt like it. If he wanted to use the room that had been his since the day he'd been born, he'd use it. Especially at a time like this. There was no way he would've been willing to set foot in the Manor dressed in Nikki's clothes to get himself changed back to normal.

"Still here, huh?"

Finally, he acknowledged Pierre's presence. Karsh had already made it perfectly clear that the two of them definitely weren't going to get along. Who knew whether Pierre was too stupid to pick up on that or just didn't care, but either way, Karsh was subjected to his phony foreign greetings way more often than he could live with.

"Of course, mon ami."

"Shouldn't you have packed up and left by now?"

"Moi? Never! Shouldn't you be shopping?"

"What?"

"Moi have heard that you are looking to change your ensemble. To impress les mademoiselles? Or les monsieurs, perhaps?"

Great. Pretty much the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"Moooom!" Karsh yelled, frustrated. "Can't you rent my room out to somebody else? _Anybody_ else!" Maybe this whole Pierre thing was some kind of twisted punishment for not coming home more often. "Wait, what's a mademoiselle?"

"Toi will have to excuse my français. A young lady."

"Lady?" he choked out. "As in…?"

"Woman. Female. It is basic vocabulaire, non?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. So Pierre didn't mean _that _kind of Lady, at least. Riddel was the only one around for miles. He definitely didn't want Pierre knowing that much.

And what was this _français_? Karsh hadn't even heard of it. It'd have to be from someplace in the world he'd never been—some random island off the coast of Porre, maybe—that is, if it was even a language to begin with. And if it was, he didn't buy for a second that Pierre spoke it for real.

Not that he really cared. Mostly, he just wanted to know where Pierre was getting his information from, because he sure as hell hadn't told the guy anything.

"Where'd you hear about this, anyway?"

"The Termina Times, of course." Pierre opened the newspaper he was carrying and read one of the headlines. "_Seer's Eye Queers Up Straight Guy._ Their wordplay is excellente, non?"

He was used to being in the news for dragoon stuff, but since when was it appropriate to spread his personal matters all over town? Karsh grabbed the paper. And sure enough, the article was there. If he had anything to be thankful for, at least it was a blind item.

_Which macho top dragoon has been devoting a startling amount of time to his looks as of late? Rumor has it he's planning to ditch his usual white ensemble after taking advice from the city fortuneteller. The axe-wielder was recently spotted in a discussion of fashion at one of Termina's most famously flamboyant clothing shops. _

Top dragoon? Axe-wielder? They sure hadn't done much to hide his identity. That was the last time he was going to have a conversation like that in such a crowded public place. "Forget about it. It's a bunch of bull."

"You are _tres_ vulgaire in mon presence." It wasn't the first time Pierre had tried to lecture him on _la politesse_. "But you are stupide not to seek mon aide, for dressing to impress is non probleme for moi!"

It wasn't too convincing, coming from a guy in purple tights. But Karsh figured the less he argued with Pierre, the sooner he'd shut up. "Yeah? Well, what do _you_ think I should do?"

"Well, _moi_ would simply wear one of my most elegant ensembles. They are fit for royals, certaine to impress any mademoiselle! Perhaps you wish to borrow one? And in return, perhaps you will stop bothering moi in the room I have already paid for?"

"Paid for? You haven't paid in over a month! I should take this axe o'mine and chase you right out of here!"

"I have, just now. Moi have become quite rich, as a matter of fact. There were many treasures to be found on my travels with Serge."

"_You_?" Serge seemed to be willing to take just about anyone along these days. And, sure, he trusted that Serge knew what he was doing—the fact that he himself had joined his cause was proof enough of that—but sometimes Karsh couldn't help but wonder if the kid had been in a few too many fishing accidents.

But… fit for royals? That didn't sound so bad. Not anywhere near as bad as Nikki's outfit, anyway. It even sounded like it could fit in with the kind of stuff Riddel supposedly liked. It was hard to believe, but maybe that loser was on the right track after all. He had to ask.

"Not that I give a damn, but would you call your stuff… traditional?"

That was where he'd gone wrong the last time, wasn't it? He hadn't exactly been following the fortuneteller's advice with the whole leather pants thing. But if he got it right, then maybe…

"Mais oui!" Pierre gave Karsh the most exaggerated nod he'd ever seen. "Many traditional heroes have inspired my ensembles. But mine are more magnificent than theirs, of course."

That was all he needed to know. "Well, I'm outta here," he said. And he turned to leave his room in the hands of… never mind. He just wouldn't think about it. The less he imagined Pierre in his bed, the better.

Karsh would never live it down if the guy knew, but he was seriously thinking of swiping one of those outfits from his closet sometime. But, he asked himself as he walked out the door, was he really willing to dress up like Pierre, of all people, just to win Riddel's heart?

Well, if it was actually going to work…

"Au revoir, mon ami!" Pierre called after him.

"Y'know, Pierre, you're not fooling anyone!"

"Excuse moi?"

"That might just be the fakest accent I've ever heard."

Pierre would have protested, but Karsh was long gone before he could invent a plausible _français_ substitute for "liar."


End file.
